


Can I be Close to You

by littlecakes



Series: Like Stars [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Worship, Eating Disorders, Emotional Sex, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 12:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes
Summary: Prompto's struggles with his eating disorder and self-esteem break Ignis's heart. He wants more nothing more than to show Prompto how beautiful and perfect he is to him.





	Can I be Close to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClockworkAngel117](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkAngel117/gifts).



> So my friend ClockworkAngel117 sent me a song that's totally different from the one that I pulled a LOT of inspiration from for this piece. The title comes from that song. It's called [Bloom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4XdnD5c334) and it's by Paper Kites. I hope you like, my dear, thanks for being a constant inspiration and a wonderful friend.

Laughter fills the empty space of the diner. There’s a radio playing somewhere; the crackly chatter of late-night news is merely background noise to the clamor of nightlife within the thin metal walls of the restaurant. It’s late; there aren’t a whole lot of people left at tables, save for the four of them and the cook puttering around behind the counter, minding his own business. Gladio and Noctis are a few beers in; the pink of their cheeks and the slight slur to Noct’s words gives away just how rare a drink is for the both of them and how much they’ve imbibed.

They’re staying in the motel across the street for the night, meaning Ignis gets a night off from cooking, which normally he’s happy about. As much as he likes cooking, he equally enjoys a night off to indulge in some greasy diner food. He peeks out the corner of his eye at Prompto as Noctis discusses dinner, particularly a bacon cheeseburger. It’s like a match to gasoline; as soon as food’s mentioned, Prompto’s easy demeanor freezes up and he switches gears. Ignis can hear Prompto’s boots scuff against the floor as they dangle from the booth; it’s a quick, rough, and anxious pace the blonde sets as crimson soles strike the floor erratically.

He’s nervous, but no one else would know just from looking at him. No one but Ignis, anyway. That bubbly smile and the jokes that rain down relentlessly from his lips would indicate a carefree, happy young man. Ignis has watched this facade for years. He knows the twitch of Prompto’s lip he gets when he reads the menu and the anxious lip-chewing that sets in as soon as the food’s dropped off at the table that doesn’t cease until his phone’s out and he’s counting the calories.

The glazed, harsh stare  _ after _ he counts the calories.

He knows all the tricks Prompto’s got up his sleeves. There’s the mechanical way he laughs at a joke while casually stuffing a handful of french fries in the extra napkins he hides in his lap. Prompto claims he hates cheese, although Ignis distinctively remembers a time he watched the blonde eat half a wedge of gouda in a binge. Sometimes, he’ll shred his bread into minuscule pieces, hiding it in a puddle of sauce or under an extra chicken cutlet.

There was the one time he went to the bathroom without saying anything after Ignis surprised them all with dessert. The tactician was almost positive he’d managed to stuff the entire tartlet in his mouth without swallowing and spat it out later. Since then, Ignis always lets them know ahead of time when he’s making dessert, and Prompto always goes to bed early, giving Ignis a grateful smile as he dips into the tent. Ignis is sure Prompto manages to snap one of his heartstrings as he closes the zipper.

“I think I’m gonna get a salad, Y’know, gotta work on these guns,” Prompto says, flexing his biceps.

Noctis scoffs. “Prompto. You have salad  _ every time _ we go to Kenny Crow’s,” Noctis says pointedly, with an overeager Gladio nodding fervently by his side. “You went for an eight mile run this morning. Come on dude, indulge. The muscles can wait.”

With the excessive exercise, meticulous calorie counting, and careful meals, it’s a wonder how Gladio and Noctis have no idea about Prompto’s eating disorder. Ignis could see it plain as day when they met. It’s taken so long with such careful steps to help him to where he is now; eating meals, cutting back on the exercise, not poking at himself every time he peeks in the mirror with hate in his eyes. Ignis tries not to narrow his eyes as he watches Noctis unknowingly claw at Prompto’s resolve and purses his lips instead of speaking. Prompto would surely murder him if he even said anything- or vehemently deny it, sending them straight back to square one.

Prompto inhales sharply before laughing. “Yeah, dude, you’re right. Okay. I’ll get something different. How about the-”

“No. Chicken.” Gladio says. “You need  _ protein _ , you need  _ calories, _ or you’ll start looking like Prince Charmless here.”

“Hey,” Noctis hisses. “I have muscle.”

Gladio makes a crude gesture while panting. “Yeah, your forearm’s  _ real strong, _ Noct.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Noctis hisses. The two instantly begin a playful banter that’s hanging on the edge of an all-out brawl. They’re so wrapped up in their drunken debate, it’s almost as if the other two aren’t there.

“If you want,” Ignis whispers, “I’ll order the salad, and decide I don’t like it. Then we can trade.”

“They already know that one, Iggy,” Prompto says. His voice has that tell-tale waver. He’s already tearing himself apart over what he’s about to put in his body, Ignis can tell. “They’re gonna be all pushy and stuff. I better just do it. Suck it up.”

“Alright then. I won’t say I agree with them, but…”

Prompto’s eyes drop to the floor. “Then don’t.”

Ignis holds in the sigh he so badly wants to release. It’s frustrating, watching the one he loves punish himself for things he shouldn’t. It’s heartbreaking to see the resignation on his face as he hides his phone under the table, looking up nutritional facts for each menu item. It’s maddening to know that he can’t help it, that it’s not a choice, that he has a problem Ignis can’t solve.

More than anything, he just wants to take Prompto in his arms and show him how beautiful he is, but he can’t. Prompto doesn’t know how strongly Ignis feels for him, doesn’t know about the looks he steals while making them coffee in the morning, doesn’t know how intently Ignis watches him scroll through the day’s photos with that adorable smile on his face. Prompto doesn’t know how absolutely perfect Ignis thinks he is.

“Alright, what are we having?” the cook asks, holding out a notepad. Gladio and Noctis order bacon cheeseburgers with extra fries, of course. Ignis orders himself the salmon; he’ll never admit it, but it’s his absolute favorite. Gladio and Noct look at Prompto expectantly; he’s still frantically searching menu items under the table on his phone and the lip-chewing has started before they even order.

“Prompto,” Gladio says sharply. “Order so the guy can get on with it.”

Prompto sighs. “Uh, I’ll have the salmon, too….” He’s about to continue, Ignis knows he’s going to ask for the sauce on the side so he can forget it of course, but the cook’s already walking away. Prompto looks on forlornly as Noctis and Gladio whip out their phones to play King’s Knight while they wait for the food. His bottom lip’s nearly disappeared inside his mouth as Prompto frets.

It’s like someone’s wringing Ignis’s stomach out like a towel. He  _ should _ go say something. Maybe tell the cook to hold the sauce, or to bring out a salad and pretend like it’s a mistake, do something, anything.  What would he say to Prompto, though? To the men sitting across the table? ‘So sorry, Prompto, but I decided to take charge and enable your eating disorder further by changing your order for you.’

Maybe not such a good idea.

He sits there and stews, instead. Torments himself with the idea of sneaking a hand under the table, taking Prompto’s in his, giving him the comforting touch he so needs and deserves. Tortures himself with the idea of whispered promises of beauty and perfection uttered with lips dancing against a freckled cheek. Feels himself die just a little when he knows it doesn’t make sense to change things the way they are between them. Prompto doesn’t want him, anyway, and that’s fine.

Perfectly fine.

  
  
  


Rain’s coming down in a torrential downpour. Thunder cracks overhead, nearly shaking the sky with its ear-shattering volume. Ignis’s chocobo replies to the surprise with a loud ‘kweh’ before dancing around nervously. He can’t blame the shy creature; even he’s getting a little anxious about the sudden change in weather. The rain has drenched him by now, and his carefully sculpted hair now clings to his forehead in a cold, sopping mess.

They all look about the same: miserable, wet, longing for a dry towel. Gladio’s more than a little irritable, muttering curses at Ramuh under his breath as he tries to get the ivory chocobo he’s riding to calm down. Noctis is yelling at him about manhandling the poor thing and the two start arguing again. Ignis sighs and rolls his eyes, riding his chocobo to the cover of a nearby tree. 

Ignis dismounts from his chocobo, giving it a gentle pat and leaning against the base of the tree while he watches the bird pick at the ground. It seems unaffected by the rain and quieter thunder as it extracts insects from their earthy hiding place. Prompto rides under the tree as well. The other two are now dismounted, shouting at each other in the pouring rain while their chocobos skitter away, probably to find good cover while their masters argue senselessly.

Smiling, Ignis looks up at the blonde. Prompto stares dully at the horizon. There are bags under his eyes -big ones- and Ignis can’t remember the last time he took a good look at Prompto. Truth be told, he’s been trying to avoid him to get this whole crush situation back under his careful control. Maybe that was a bad idea, he notes, as he notices the weak pallor of the gunner. Cheeks sunken, eyes glassy, he looks positively miserable. Ignis’s stomach twists up into a knot.

“Are you feeling alright, Prompto?” Ignis asks.

Prompto nods weakly. “Just tired,” he mutters, his eyes dropping to the golden, dripping neck of his chocobo as his hands twist up in the reins. Ignis watches as Prompto sags in his seat. Sure, he looks tired. Someone tired doesn’t lose color like that though, and those pale cheeks give him away. He hates to be suspicious, but after the debacle at the restaurant, he wouldn’t be surprised if Prompto’s been starving himself to make up for the calories. That, combined with the awful weather and excessive hunting they’ve been doing, must be doing a number on him.

“Have you been eating?” Ignis asks just loud enough for Prompto to hear him. There’s a crack of thunder and a flash of light as Ignis looks up at him. Prompto’s face is twisted with effort to fight back the tears that are already streaming down his wet cheeks, combining with the rain to form rivers on his face.

“I can’t,” he chokes. Prompto quickly dissolves into a stuttering, sobbing mess, covering his face to hide his shame. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, Iggy!”

Ignis feels his heart shatter until a hundred sharp pieces that jab at him, urging him to rush to the chocobo’s side. He places a hand on Prompto’s calf and speaks softly. “Come down from there, won’t you?”

Prompto nods weakly, his whole body shaking as he tries to dismount. The stirrup’s wet, though, and the blonde slips, nearly knocking the wind out of Ignis as he falls from the saddle. The grass beneath Ignis is icy cold, its moisture seeping quickly into his already soaking-wet clothes. Prompto lays against him, crying quietly into his side, utterly defeated. Ignis hears the fighting in the clearing cease and Noctis call out to him.

“Iggy, is Prompto okay?” he yells.

“Just a bit under the weather, I’m going to take him back to camp,” Ignis lies. He hates lying to Noctis, but anything else would be a failure to keep his promise to Prompto and that’s not a viable option. He doesn’t want to think of how much worse things could get for Prompto if he ceases talking to anyone about his disorder at all. “Let’s walk, it’s not far from here,” Ignis says, daring to comb the blonde locks plastered to Prompto’s face away with his fingers. “And I think we best talk about things.”

Prompto sighs, sniffs, and clambers to his feet before offering Ignis a hand up. The two walk back in the direction of camp- thank goodness they got a late start that morning- which isn’t far from where they are. Ignis realizes how silly it was to suggest walking back in the rain; the skin on Prompto’s bare arms rises in goose pimples as a breeze rushes from the sanctuary of the forest. Shrugging off his jacket, Ignis drapes the wet fabric over Prompto. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll help with the chill.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Prompto mutters, but his fingers close around the fabric and hold it close to his body. “I don’t deserve your kindness, Iggy.”

His careful composure feels like it’s crumbling within him like a house of cards. There’s a strong urge compelling him to yell at the blonde, to chastise him for ever saying such ridiculous things. How could he, when he’s the epitome of kindness and selflessness? Prompto is always the one to give, to help, to listen, and deserves such kindnesses returned tenfold in Ignis’s opinion. Logic overcomes heart, though, and the tactician keeps quiet, choosing instead to say nothing rather than open his mouth and let something foolish slip out.

Ignis sighs as he looks up at the dark clouds overhead. They swirl and mesh in such a convolution that there’s no way to distinguish one from another. The rain falling them is relentless and bitterly cold. Ignis can see the runes of the Haven glowing just beyond the hill, tells himself to maintain his composure until they’re both dry and sated. The anger that’s bubbling within may be quieter, may make more sense once they’re out of this dreadful situation. Prompto stays quiet save for an occasional sniffle as they walk together.

Once they reach the haven, Ignis points to the tent. “Wait for me,” he directs, and Prompto slinks inside the tent with a guilty look on his face. Ignis opens the cooler to find a sandwich Gladio must have been saving (he won’t miss it too badly), as well as some snack-type foods and an apple. Good enough; they can share this for now. The tent’s flap is hanging open and Ignis crawls inside, handing the food to Prompto, who looks at it as if Ignis is holding his own gun to his face.

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re not hungry,” Ignis says curtly. The boiling rage in his belly’s a mere simmer now, thankfully. He turns away from Prompto, who’s already changed into his dry pajamas, to strip. Ignis tosses his sopping clothes into the precarious pile of wet clothes Prompto’s already made in the corner of the tent in favor of his own pajamas, which are the only dry, clean clothes he has right now. Ignis turns to find that the sandwich is already gone and Prompto’s elbow deep in a bag of chips.

He sighs and reaches for the chips, grabbing a handful of the greasy snack. The tent’s silent, save for the crunch of fried potato between teeth, but Ignis’s mind is far from it. It’s buzzing with thoughts and feelings; it’s all whipping by in his brain so fast he can feel the mental whiplash. The heartbreak echoes within him like his chest is a canyon and the sound seems to travel forever. The feeling’s picking at the seams of his carefully-crafted composure, begging him to take the broken man in his arms, hold him, love him, show him the kindness he feels so strongly he deserves.

It all comes out in a simple phrase.

“You’re wrong.”

Prompto’s tired eyes meet his. “What?” he says, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Ignis draws a shaky breath; it’s like walking on a floor barefoot and it’s covered in shards of glass, one misstep and he’s sure to spill blood. Maybe it’s his heart that’s scattered haphazardly across the floor of the tent. It only makes sense; he’s exposing himself far more than he prefers to. Ignis says deliberately, “You said you don’t deserve my kindness.”

“Oh,” Prompto murmurs, eyes dropping to pick at a loose thread on his faded lounge pants. “Well, I don’t.”

“And why not?”

Prompto purses his lips. “I’m not good enough for you, Iggy. I’m not good enough for you, or Noct, or Gladio. You all are so amazing… and me?” he pauses, looking up to meet Ignis’s in a sad stare that takes to Ignis’s composure with a seam ripper. “I’m nothing. I’m nobody, and until I can prove otherwise, I don’t deserve anything.”

Ignis purses his lips and stares at the floor of the tent, trying to find the words he wants to say, but all he can find is that sinking, awful feeling of heartbreak and want that seems to have replaced every shred of tact. He wishes the task that laid ahead of him were easy, but it isn’t, and Ignis can’t negotiate his way out of it. He just wants Prompto to feel good about himself.

“And now you’re mad at me, too… so add that to the count, I guess,” Prompto mutters bitterly.

“I’m not mad. Just… utterly lost as to how you, of all people, could think that you are nothing,” Ignis says. “Smart, brave, strong, beautiful, but not nothing. Everything but, actually.”

“You’re just saying that because we’re friends,” Prompto says, flopping back onto a bedroll with a sigh. Ignis moves close to him, sitting cross-legged at his side, facing away. Prompto tilts his hip so it’s pressing into the small of Ignis’s back. The touch, however small, gives Ignis the courage he needs to continue, despite his heart thrumming in his chest like a hummingbird.

“Do you think I say things like that to Noctis? Or Gladio?” Ignis says quietly.

There’s a pause. “No.”

“It’s true, I don’t. So why do you think I would say these things to you?”

Silence. Ignis leans back on his hands, pressing himself harder against Prompto’s thigh. Normally, he wouldn’t allow himself something as trivial as this, but it’s nice, and Prompto seems to want it, too. Ignis thinks he’s too hard on himself in more ways than one, and then he’s not sure if he’s thinking about himself or Prompto. Perhaps they’re more similar than he realizes. Sighing, Ignis lays down next to Prompto. The only answer to his question is the sound of rain pounding against the roof of the tent and the feeling of Prompto’s fingers curling around the hem of Ignis’s shirt.

“I wish you would believe me,” Ignis whispers. “I wish you would believe me when I say that you are the most fantastic person I’ve ever met, and I wish you would be a bit kinder to yourself.”

Ignis turns his head to look at Prompto and finds those violet eyes closer than he ever imagined they would be and focused on him like a laser. He can’t suppress the shaky breath he exhales, can’t stop himself from rolling over to look into those enticing lavender pools more deeply; maybe the answers to his questions are there, maybe they’re not, but he can at least enjoy the way they watch so carefully. Ignis feels Prompto’s fingers brush against the back of his hand once, twice, until they’re sliding between his and lodging themselves there.

“Tell me,” Prompto murmurs. “Tell me why you’d say that stuff if… if you wouldn’t say it to the guys. Why would you say it to me?”

Fear isn’t something that he feels often, but it’s there now, lodged in Ignis’s throat, tickling and itching and gods, Ignis just wants it to stop. Prompto’s squeezing his fingers so tightly he can hardly feel them, clinging to him desperately as he searches Ignis’s face while the tactician tries to find any other way to say what he wants to say. Alas, there’s nothing. It’s time to come clean, to both himself and Prompto. It only makes sense, he realizes; as soon as those slender fingers found his, a part of himself knew he was a lost cause.

“It’s not obvious?” Ignis asks, a sly smirk answering the subtle wrinkle of Prompto’s brow. “Prompto… I care for you so much more than I should allow myself.  Than I can help, I should say… I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t really know how to say it.”

“Ignis Scientia, lost for words. Thought I’d die before I saw this happen,” Prompto chuckles. Ignis rolls his eyes.

“I know all you see are your flaws,” Ignis says, reaching up to rake blonde bangs from Prompto’s eyes. His hand lingers there and Prompto turns his cheek ever so slightly into Ignis’s hand. “But all I see is loveliness that I wish you could see. Were it up to me, I would show you.”

“Iggy…” Prompto’s so close that even though Ignis’ name is barely a breath, Ignis can hear it clear as a bell. His voice fades, but his eyes are full of want and apprehension as they meet Ignis’s. Prompto pulls him close until they’re on the same bedroll, until the tip of Prompto’s nose teases his cheek and Ignis can smell the rain that’s soaked into his skin.

His voice falters as he speaks softly. “I’d like to show you. If you’ll let me.”

Prompto answers him with the most gentle of kisses pressed to his lips. Ignis can feel the trepidation in the way his lips move, slowly and cautiously, as if asking for more were to break him. He responds with the same measure of care, touching his cheek with long, delicate brushes of his fingers. Their kisses are chaste, as Ignis moves to caress the curve of his neck. His fingertips ghost over the peak of his collarbone, sending a shudder cascading through Prompto. His cheeks, reddened from being outside in the cold, blush even more deeply as Ignis looks at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Ignis whispers. Prompto closes his eyes and bites his lip, inhaling sharply, as if to contain himself. “I mean it,” Ignis urges. “You’re stunning.”

They kiss again, their lips sticking together with the humidity from the rain outside and the rising temperature in the tent. Ignis can feel Prompto’s slim body trembling against his as he kisses his neck. He allows his lips to linger against that warm, soft flesh; it’s everything he’s fantasized about, everything he’s wanted, but this isn’t about him right now. This is about Prompto, about showing the man in his arms everything there is to love about him.

“Your skin so soft… it’s divine,” Ignis murmurs against Prompto’s neck, grazing over it with his teeth. The taste of rain, sweat, and Prompto’s essence is strong on his tongue. He can’t help but sink his teeth in, sucking gently until the flesh is red and risen. It’ll be a nice reminder of this moment, of Prompto being unabashedly, wholly loved. The blonde will need it later when he’s doubting that all of it was genuine.

Prompto whispers, “Ignis.”

The advisor pauses, lips hovering over the flesh that’s peeking out from under Prompto’s tank top. He realizes now that his fingers are clenched around the loose fabric, holding Prompto close as he lavishes his body with the attention it deserves. It may be too much, perhaps Prompto never wanted this in the first place- that would explain the trepidation. “Do you want me to stop?”

Prompto’s eyes are shining as he shakes his head. “Please don’t, don’t stop, Ignis. I- I want it all.”

Ignis smiles at him. His heart’s pounding so hard he can hear it in his ears. “Good, you deserve to be loved,” he says, pulling the neck of Prompto’s neckline down so he can mark him with lips and teeth once again. The blonde shudders. “You deserve to feel good.”

Ignis slips a hand up Prompto’s tank top; he’s not about to ask him to remove it, but it slides over his head and Ignis can’t help but caress the new, tender flesh under his hands. There’s stretch marks from his weight loss that crisscross his skin like spiderwebs. Prompto covers them with his hands, but Ignis nudges his hand to the side with his nose. Ignis’ name slips from Prompto’s lips in a pleading tone, but Ignis interrupts with a tender, careful kiss pressed to the ivory lines. “Your badges of honor,” Ignis whispers, “They show how hard you worked to better yourself. You should be proud.”

He can feel Prompto’s fingers slip through his damp hair before curling around the back of his shirt. Ignis rises to his kneels, pulling it over his head and can feel Prompto’s eyes examining every line and crevice of his toned body as Ignis does the same to him. They need this quiet moment of appreciation, of exploration, as they take each other in. Prompto’s skin is dappled with freckles that fall in a gradient from his freckles to his bellybutton. A scant trail of blonde curls slips below the waistline of his pajama pants. Ignis trails his fingers over it, his eyes locking onto Prompto’s flushed cheeks and dark eyes.

He’s in awe that anyone this beautiful could be ashamed of such perfection, but understands that Prompto can’t help it. It’ll be a slow, long road, but Ignis is willing to shuffle along as slowly as Prompto needs if it means that one day, he’ll think he’s beautiful, too. The pronounced hipbones, the wide gap between his thighs, they’re only temporary. The thought of seeing him filled out, happy, and healthy is a fantasy that brings a smile to Ignis’s face as he looks down at his lover. One day, soon, he tells himself. He hopes they can tackle it together.

“What is it?” Prompto asks nervously, bringing Ignis back to Eos.

Ignis hovers over him, resting his weight on an elbow while his other hand skates over supple flesh. “Simply taking in the view. It’s one I wish to remember.”

The words draw a blush to Prompto’s cheeks, who pulls Ignis down for another kiss. It’s hungrier and more desperate, it’s a kiss that Ignis has been longing to share with him. Tongues quickly follow lips as the wet muscles tangle in their mouths. Prompto whimpers as Ignis sets a thigh between his legs and rubs it gently against the hardness tenting his pajama pants.

“Prompto,” Ignis breathes as he feels long, slender fingers slip past the waistband of his pants and grasp his erection. “That’s not necessary-”

“What? It’s about… making me feel good, right?” Prompto says quietly, massaging the tip with his thumb. “Making you feel good… it’s gonna make me feel good.”

“How can I argue with such sound logic?” Ignis says, smiling softly at the man beneath him. They shed the rest of their clothes hastily. He could never have imagined how those perfect little dots cover every inch of pale skin, or the way Prompto’s hips are muscled, yet soft to the touch. Ignis drags his lips down that speckled skin from Prompto’s bellybutton to his thighs, smattering the skin with soft kisses and gentle nips. He can feel Prompto quiver beneath him as he worships him with his mouth.

Lips travel over Prompto’s bellybutton as he continues stroking his cock gently. The ache in his loins is urging him to take Prompto as he is right now so they can revel in the ecstasy together, but he hesitates. “Can I?” he asks softly, peering up at Prompto’s face, letting his breath fall gently over the swollen flesh. 

The blonde nods, his eyes growing wide as Ignis takes the tip of his cock in his mouth. The salty taste of precome paints the surface of his tongue as he takes his time swirling it around the head before bobbing his head down onto the shaft. Prompto rests his ankles on the small of Ignis’s back, letting his legs fall open in invitation. He can feel Prompto’s toes curl and watches as he clenches his hands in the sheets, but his eyes never leave Ignis’s as he takes him wholly and eagerly with his mouth.

“Iggy,” Prompto gasps, eyelashes fluttering.

Ignis stops, only to lave the bottom of Prompto’s erection with his tongue. “What is it, darling?”

Prompto leans over to his backpack and fishes a bottle of lube out of the bag. “We- we’re gonna need this, right?”

“If you so desire, then yes,” Ignis says with a smile before licking the bead of precome that’s formed in the slit of Prompto’s cock. He can tell he’s succeeding in his mission of pleasuring his partner as plush, velvet lips fall open and lilac eyes flutter shut. Prompto opens the bottle and hands it to Ignis. “Do you want me to prepare you, or myself?”

“Me, please, Iggy. I want you,” Prompto says, nearly begging, as he brings his ankles a little further up Ignis’s shoulders and props himself up on his elbows. Ignis holds his hand out, inviting Prompto to lubricate his fingers as he sinks his lips down on his lover’s shaft until his nose is buried in tight blonde curls. Fingers find their way to Ignis’ disheveled hair, gripping it gently, while Ignis’s are making their way south past his chin until they’re teasing at the blonde’s tight heat.

Prompto immediately arches under Ignis’s careful touch. Ignis looks up at him, slowing the strong pace he’s maintained while lavishing Prompto’s cock with attention. His flushed, freckled cheeks and swollen lips are a thing of fascination and beauty; Ignis’s chest swells slightly with pride as he ruminates on the fact that he’s the one to bring such a blush and expression of ecstasy to Prompto’s face. Swollen lips part with a gasp as Ignis sinks a finger into his warmth.

The fingers in Ignis’s hair tighten their grip as he slowly takes Prompto apart with his careful ministrations. The blonde’s breaths are short and shallow as they fill the small space of the tent. Prompto twitches in his mouth as he moans, “Iggy, stop, don’t wanna-”

Ignis’s hollowed cheeks drag along the sides of Prompto’s shaft as he releases him from the wet heat of his mouth. “That’s alright, darling, I’ll take my time.”

Prompto smiles at him, his eyes hazy and gaze distant. “Come here and kiss me?”

“With pleasure,” Ignis replies, crawling up the length of Prompto’s torso. As he kisses his partner, he sinks a second finger into Prompto’s entrance as slowly as the blonde will allow. He’s bucking his hips, crying out as Ignis gently strokes his prostate with loving, languid touches. Prompto clasps a hand over his own mouth, and the sight of violet eyes rolling back into his head makes Ignis’s arousal coil in his gut even more. Ignis caresses his cheek with his free hand, savoring the feeling of Prompto’s flushed cheek against his fingers. “No, darling, I want to hear your ecstasy,” he murmurs, twitching his fingers and scissoring them.

Prompto stutters Ignis’s name as his fingers finds his way around Ignis’s wrist, pulling his fingers from within him, whispering, “I want you, Iggy- now.”

“And I, you,” Ignis says, smiling at his lover. “Do you wish to be on top, or shall I?”

The blush that reddens his cheeks sends Ignis’s heart soaring as Prompto’s lips twist into a shy grin. “I, uh, I wanna be on top. If that’s okay.”

“Absolutely, darling,” Ignis says adoringly, rolling onto his back so Prompto’s straddling him. The gunner takes a condom from his backpack and tears the foil. The sight of him readying Ignis, rolling the condom carefully onto his length and drizzling it with lube, hazes Ignis’s clarity with desire. He sinks his fingertips into slender, pale thighs as Prompto strokes his cock to spread the lube, groaning Prompto’s name under his breath.

Ignis can’t help but watch with contentment while Prompto grinds his length against Ignis’s and tilts his head back with a purr. Seeing him completely lost in himself with nothing on his mind, no negativity clouding his thoughts, is a sight unseen. It’s enthralling him, tempting Ignis to caress, touch, and worship the beautiful man straddling his hips. He reaches out and sets his hands on Prompto’s hips, more so he can feel the motion of him rocking against his pelvis than anything else. Prompto sets his hands atop Ignis’s, pressing chilled fingertips into his hot skin.

“Ready?” Prompto asks, gazing down at Ignis with eyes that are heavy-lidded with arousal.

“I’ve been ready for you for long before this moment,” Ignis says. Prompto sinks down on him in one fluid motion, trapping Ignis’s cock within his tight heat and he can’t help the moan that escapes his lips. Those freckled thighs in Ignis’ hands tremble ever so slightly as Prompto hinges at the hip, leaning over to adorn Ignis’s neck with wet kisses and bites. Ignis merely holds him in his arms, relishing the way they’ve so beautifully, unexpectedly come together. There’s hardly been a moment to process everything that’s happened this afternoon and it certainly won’t happen in this moment, but at least he can enjoy the feeling of Prompto’s body pressed against his as the blonde loses himself in pleasure.

Their lips collide in a hungry kiss as Prompto begins to rock his hips against Ignis’s, allowing the last of Ignis’s cock to slip deep inside him. It’s only a moment before they’re moving as one, each responding to the other’s movements in a nod to the connection that’s sparked between them. Their movements are so fluid, so in sync, that it feels like they’d loved each other like this a hundred times. Prompto’s body shakes in Ignis’s firm embrace as they say with their bodies what words cannot.

It’s then that Prompto sits up on Ignis’s hips, pulling the advisor into a seated position so he can bounce in his lap. At this angle, the tip of Ignis’s erection strikes Prompto’s prostate mercilessly with every stroke. Ignis has to wrap his arms around Prompto as he nearly collapses in Ignis’s lap and is reduced to incoherent sounds. He moves with every intention to make Prompto call out his name as he presses kisses to the soft flesh to his lover’s chest and shoulders. Prompto’s heat tightens around his cock, making the advisor nearly see stars.

Prompto’s absolutely lost in it; Ignis can tell by the way he drags his nails down Ignis’s back. His hands, which are usually occupied with hiding himself, are busy with Ignis’s flesh. Ignis can’t help but fall for him all over again as he admires the curve of his hip, the rise and fall of his chest as he grinds Ignis’s cock into himself. He’s never seen him like this before and hopes he never forgets.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ignis whispers before nibbling Prompto’s earlobe. “Come for me.”

“Ignis!” Prompto screams as his orgasm spills from the tip of his cock all over their middles. Ignis bites his lip, trying to fight off the ecstasy that Prompto’s walls are surely trying to milk from him as he fucks Prompto through his orgasm until the man in his lap is clawing at his back with shaky gasps of breath. It’s then that he allows himself to fall over the edge into mindless pleasure as Prompto rides him to completion.

Falling to the bedroll, Ignis lays still as Prompto allows him to slip from his entrance. The condom’s removed, tied, and tossed aside and a towel is hastily shared before Ignis holds out his arms, inviting Prompto back into his embrace. They lay together in silence, appreciating the way their skin sticks together in the humid air while they catch their breath. Ignis mindlessly traces circles around the vertebrae of Prompto’s spine as they lay there, reveling in ecstasy.

Prompto mutters so quietly Ignis isn’t sure if he was intended to hear, “thank you.”

“Prompto,” Ignis says, turning Prompto’s cheek so the blonde’s resting his head on his chest, staring up at him. “There’s no thanks needed. If it wasn’t clear before, I adore you. The opportunity to express my affections isn’t something that needs thanks- not from you, love.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that. Um. I guess… thanks for everything you said. I think you’re right about me being hard on myself.”

Ignis smiles. “Do you believe everything I said?”

“I want to…” Prompto mumbles, burying his nose in the shallow valley of Ignis’s chest.

“That’s a good start,” Ignis says, pressing a kiss to the blonde locks atop his head as he hugs him tighter. “We’ll just have to keep working on it.”

“What?? Really?” Prompto exclaims, looking at Ignis with wide eyes. “You mean it?”

Chuckling, Ignis replies, brushing a stray lock of hair from Prompto’s eyes. “Yes, darling. I was hoping this could be more than just a single venture.”

Prompto blushes as he laces his fingers with the hand Ignis is resting on his face. “I’d like that…”

“As would I.”

It’s not until they hear the footfall of chocobos and their traveling companion’s voices in the distance that they separate with a tender kiss and forlorn faces. Ignis closes his eyes and sighs before rising from the bedroll, trying to memorize the sights and sounds of Prompto on top of him. More than that, though, he wants to remember the smiles, the escape Prompto’s found in his arms. The thought of having brought him relief feels better than caffeine rush, than every kiss they’ve shared. As he leaves the tent, he can only hope this feeling will find him again.


End file.
